


A Proper Name

by nerdygaycas



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Daddy Kink, Feminization, Fluff, M/M, Marking, Oral Sex, Rimming, the author reappears after 84yrs, you'll get cavities srry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-14
Updated: 2017-03-17
Packaged: 2018-10-05 04:12:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10297223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdygaycas/pseuds/nerdygaycas
Summary: The one where Credence doesn't like being called 'boy', so Graves complies happily.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> forgive me

Credence was stunned when Mr. Graves hadn't looked at him as if he was out of his mind or as if he needed to be confined in an upstate asylum. That he didn’t seem to consider him a _freak._ Instead he’d taken a short pause, gaze soothing, then said, "I understand, darling."

So easily, Mr. Graves had scratched out the term ‘boy’ from his mouth and his mind. He didn't utter it because it made Credence uncomfortable, because Credence didn't like the entirety of what being a boy implied. Because he'd always felt more… delicate, and thus he envied Chastity and Modesty in ways that were still hard for him to openly admit. 

"Don't call me _that_ again, please," his voice had been that of a wounded creature, his eyes wide as saucers, hands trembling somewhat. 

They'd been arguing, a trifle. Credence had grown increasingly anxious with each passing second, the same sentiment soaring ever higher each time Mr. Graves made use of the appellation. The word felt like one of his Ma's slaps across his face, even if Mr. Graves didn't mean any harm, even if he spoke only out of kindness.

They were both nude, the hot summer air along with the heat of the confrontation had caused a layer of sweat to cover their flushed bodies. Mr. Graves sat across him on the bed and cupped his face, tucking a loose strand of hair behind his ear, then he pressed their foreheads together, breathing in and out, regaining composure. "I understand, darling."

Thereafter he had crawled to the headboard, and cajoled Credence into the space between his legs. With his back lying on Mr. Graves' chest and the man's hands atop his knees, Credence let dry, insolent sobs escape his throat. There was no hiding anymore. Mr. Graves would see him, _could_ see him. His head was perched on Credence's shoulder, his lips peppering languid kisses on the crook of his neck. 

"What would you have me call you then, Credence?" he spoke in a whisper, not wanting to blow Credence down like a castle of cards.

Yet Credence didn't exactly know what he wanted to be called. He'd been resenting that term for so long, he’d forgotten to think about what was it he did want to be called. "I'm... not sure."

"Alright then," after a moment's pause Mr. Graves' said, "Does this have anything to do with that incident three weeks ago, love?"

Three weeks ago, Credence had locked himself in the bathroom all night and most of the following day, despite the multiple pleas from the man. Mr. Graves had arrived earlier from work that day, and accidentally catch sight of him with red lipstick. It was a bagatelle he'd bought on impulse, and which he’d hid in the interior of a loose tile. He wore it every other day, when he wasn't being weighed down by tons of shame, but always made sure to wipe it off before Mr. Graves came back. It was enough that he was a homosexual, there was no need to throw in another sinful rarity in the mix. 

They hadn’t spoken about it ever since.

"Because..." continued Mr. Graves, the words melting in the naked skin of his back, "I'd understand that too, Credence."

“Would you?" he asked timidly, not daring to turn his head and stare into Mr. Graves’ piercing eyes. 

"Indeed" the man replied firmly, his mouth coming up to Credence's ear, placing a kiss there as well. A soft one that was not only lips but also tongue. It made him shiver. 

"And you know what else, darling?"

He shook his head. 

"Not only do I understand, Credence. I like it. I like _you_."

But Mr. Graves didn't understand, not _really_. He was in love with another Credence, with the one that wore a mask crafted out of each one of Ma's beatings and insults. 

"Tell me, Credence. Why did you put lipstick on that day, do you like it?"

A hesitant nod. He couldn't bring himself to say it, but he could at least admit it.

"Why?" The heat of Mr. Graves' skin against his own he could endure, it was comforting, but now the man's hands circled his waist only to slither down to his hips like ablaze embers. "Hmm?" Insisted Mr. Graves, playfully nibbling at the lobe of his ear. Had Credence wanted to drop the subject, he had no doubt the man would back off, even apologize. He was pushing Credence, a little. But there was no malice, no repulsion, only curiosity. And deft hands that splayed possessively over the inner curves of his thighs. 

"Makes me look... better, I think. Like-- " he bit his tongue too coward to to say any more, but Mr. Graves was as perceptive as ever. He had a good eye to spot problem.

"Like?"

Credence sighed. Surely the man was aware of his beet-colored blush and the uneasiness of his speech. He wanted to tell him everything, really, he did. But it was difficult and frightening. Still, he tried, "Like... you know, _them_." Silence, "The uh, girls who are... pretty? Not like me of course. Because I'm not. It was stupid, I know. I feel so stupid, Mr. Graves."

He was an unnatural, wicked, foolish _boy_. Mary Lou had made sure of ingraining that thought into all the nooks of his mind. The scars covering his body were there to prove it.

As if to further increase his shame, fat tears ran down his cheeks as his bottom lip quivered pathetically.   
Mr. Graves arms were holding him tight though, keeping him safe, but it only added to his embarrassment. They'd planned a romantic evening together, yet here he was: bawling like a child who knew no better.

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Graves. I didn't mean to cry," talking while sobbing was not an easy feat, what with the knot bobbing in his throat, and his lungs seemingly squeezed out of all air. 

"Shh, shh," Mr. Graves was rocking him gently with the type of tenderness he'd been deprived of all his years. And Mr. Graves wasn't backing away or calling him hurtful names, he remained the same awfully kind man Credence had come to know months ago.

After some minutes elapsed, his heart still hammered violently in his chest, but his breathing had evened out if only a bit.

"Come here."

Mr. Graves pulled him down beneath the white sheets and settled behind him, his sturdier frame was a blanket covering Credence's from head to toe. They stayed like that for quite a while, until the automobile horns and noise from the streets died down and became but a comforting drone. 

He still whimpered, but the nervous windstorm had subsided, leaving behind a wake of self-consciousness, a feeling of silly and absurd and terribly vulnerable. 

Mr. Graves hadn't moved, his hand still lingered on the jut of Credence's hipbone. Perhaps he had fallen asleep to the pitiful melody of Credence's anguish. 

"How's my girl feeling, any better?" 

Credence's whole body stiffened after Mr. Graves' words. There was a very slim chance he had imagined them, but no, he wasn't sleepy at all. Mr. Graves had said it, said _that._ The question filled the room like a balloon blown out of proportion.

A relentless heat was spreading over the bridge of Credence's nose and all around his neck. He felt like smiling except his teeth seemed engrossed with biting his bottom lip, a nervous gesture.

He nodded. Twice. For good measure. 

Mr. Graves propped on his elbow, and looked down at him from under his heavy dark brows. The crease between them had softened, his gaze was determined, proud too.

He dove and captured Credence's lips in an inelegant kiss that sucked the breath out of his system, and made him dizzy. Thousands of warm bubbles exploded inside his veins and came out as jubilant giggles. Mr. Graves pulled back and stared into his eyes, long and unyielding, appreciative. And out of nowhere he dove again, but he didn’t kiss him. He was nibbling and nipping at his neck, the hairs of his five o’ clock shadow were scratchy, and Credence was laughing so hard as he tried and failed to get him off. But Mr. Graves just kept going, frolicsome grunts scraping and dragging against the flesh of his neck, until Credence was hurting in his belly from laughing so hard and loud, screaming and thrashing, begging and surrendering.

“Please, please!” he could’ve died of joy. He would’ve died happily, “ _Stop_ , Mr. Graves, _please!_ ”

Once he stopped, Mr. Graves was the picture of smugness, but there was just as much delight dancing wildly in the pools of his eyes. 

"Truce?" Credence offered, voice raspy. Truth be told, Mr. Graves had defeated him beyond question. He’d lost, but it didn’t matter. 

"Truce," agreed the man, and when he lowered himself again it wasn't to nip and scratch, but to kiss ardently the rosy bud that was his left nipple. 

Light-headed and feeling lighter than a feather after having laughed his worries out, Credence drifted in a haze, not so different from the ones after he and Mr. Graves had sex. A sense of elation.

His nipples weren't particularly sensitive, but he liked when they were played with nonetheless. It made him feel more feminine somehow, and maybe Mr. Graves _knew_. Mr. Graves was simply too good, he pinched the right one, then gave it a light twist, and then down he went, trailing kisses across the middle of his belly, stopping a few inches below his navel. It was sweet, cruel teasing. The type they both enjoyed best. 

"Turn around for me?"

Credence looked at him while worrying the nail of his thumb in his mouth. His feet were firmly planted on the bed. "Ask nicely, Mr. Graves."

He never made a habit of being bossy, but if he was honest with himself, he was insatiably hungry to hear sweet endearments from the man. He craved monikers sweeter than ‘boy’. Boys were crass and spent a great deal of time talking about girls, many were tough even when kind, they didn’t wear lipstick, nor did they want to; they were many things Credence simply wasn’t, and didn’t want to be.

Mr. Graves smiled at him like an opponent, graceful in his defeat. Then he said, "Will my princess kindly turn around so I can have a better look at her pretty ass, please?"

" _Mr. Graves!"_

If he wasn't red as a cherry before then he definitely was now, though the words had also bloomed inside his chest, just like a flower unfolding its petals beneath the rays of the sun. 

"Careful with what you ask, Credence. With me you're most likely to get it," then he added as an afterthought, "Go on then. Hand and knees."

Credence complied hurriedly, grateful to be facing away from the Mr. Graves’ stare. Although he was intrigued he kept his eyes shut, in his mind all the sweet words and praises echoed over and over. He wanted this moment to last forever.

Soon Mr. Graves would prep him, and their evening would steer in the direction it had always meant to go. He would be fucked by Mr. Graves the same way other men fucked their wives and mistresses, and maybe, if he was fortunate enough, Mr. Graves would call him pretty names again. Unconsciously he pushed back into thin air, back arching wantonly. But there was no cool lotion dripped over his hole, neither prodding fingers making their careful way inside of him. 

His toes curled in instinctive response, and he all but broke down at the middle. Something was definitely pushing against the tight ring of muscle, with purpose and finesse. He looked past his shoulder and caught a glimpse of Mr. Graves face, exceedingly close to his rear, which meant… Mr. Graves was licking him there, _kissing_ him _there_. 

It was something they'd never done, and Credence was quickly wondering _why, why, why_. 

The rhythmic pressure made it hard for him to breathe; the warm, pulsing wetness of Mr. Graves’ tongue, gently opening him up was delicious.

He was moaning, he noticed. 

Mr. Graves hands cupped his cheeks to push them apart. Then he licked a stripe, from the sack to his hole and even a bit farther. A deep moan from Mr. Graves’ glossed him with silent praise.

Credence wanted to bury his head underground for the rest of his life, so embarrassed he was. But it felt so good as well, so he couldn't help shoving backwards, forcing Mr. Graves' face closer. He could feel the slope of his nose, the prickle of his beard.

It was incredibly filthy, and sinful by default, but Mr. Graves only proceeded to work a finger inside of him, aided by his own spit. 

"I want you to come only from this, baby girl. Can you do that? No touching yourself?" 

"Y-yes."

"Good," without further ado he returned to the task at hand. 

The squelching noises drilled into Credence's ears, and only served to augment his pleasure. It was difficult not caving in and stroking himself, but he didn't break his promises ever, he couldn’t start now, especially when Mr. Graves was being so good to him.

So, in place of wrapping his hand around his erection and tugging it at his heart's desire, he mewled and moaned louder, and gripped the sheets soundly in his fists; instead of rubbing his thumb in circles over the head of his cock, he begged Mr. Graves to _please, please, let me come, I'll be good, I'm good, please_. But then Mr. Graves' finger curled inwards, and caressed that spot inside of him that drove him mad, while he alternated between sucking and kissing and lapping at the rim of his sensitive opening. The other hand kept stroking ever so lightly his balls, as if coaxing them into release. 

It wasn’t much longer till he fell on the mattress, exertion winning him over all too easily, stripes of fresh cum staining the covers.  

"There's a good girl," Mr. Graves was kneeling. He seemed impossibly large from that angle. In his mouth a sleek, wolfish grin. 

"Yes," he replied, the answer quivering in his lips.

He’d spilled his cum not only over the sheets but also his belly, so he turned to lie on his back and face Mr. Graves better, who had positioned himself in the gap between his legs, a hand stroking his still hard cock. Precum dribbled down the tip.

Their eyes locked together, and the rest of the room blurred into incomprehensible shapes of light and dark.

Credence broke contact first, eager to see the entrancing motion of up and down that corresponded to the lewd sounds that coiled all around him, like serpents of lust. He wanted to see the retracting skin and the tightening of Mr. Graves' lower belly.

As if spellbound his eyes lingered on the jerking movements for long minutes that weren't nearly long enough, and never would be.

Even if his cock wasn't curving up with yearning at the sight, he was thoroughly aroused by the image represented by Mr. Graves. The sounds, the smell. 

Sex was perhaps his favorite scent: their fluids combined, along with heady pheromones and sweat, a divine triumvirate that made him love Mr. Graves even more, if that were even possible.

He was brought back from the swirl of thoughts by jets of warm liquid landing over him, his belly and chest, his face. 

Mr. Graves' eyes were still closed when the last spurts painted Credence in white. 

He felt filthy, but it was the good kind of filthy, because it was Mr. Graves' spent covering him, marking him as his and his alone.

When Mr. Graves came back into himself he looked at Credence with an apologetic glint in his gaze, his mouth quirked up in a wince too. 

"Sorry, princess. Seems like I got a bit carried away."

"I don't mind" he answered, and rapidly added, "I liked it."

"Really?"

"Really, Mr. Graves," but as much as he liked being marked as Mr. Graves’ they both knew it'd get sticky and uncomfortable in a little while, so Mr. Graves waved away the mess with his magic. 

The pillows were fluffy and light beneath their heads, as were the sheets.

Credence clung to Mr. Graves, and payed close attention to the vertical pattern of his chest as he breathed, while the man's fingers carded his hair, which was longer than when he lived with Ma in the church, not quite as long as he wanted it to be, but soft curls had started to form and frame his face better, softening the sharp angles of his features. 

Maybe it was because he was drunk on sex, but he found himself babbling, not caring if he said too much or if what he was saying adhered to the rules of appropriateness, "Mr. Graves, I like wearing lipstick, a lot. If you let me someday, I will kiss you and smear your mouth red,” emboldened by the spirit of god-knows-what, he continued, “I like that my hair is longer now, because I looked very ugly before, but now not so much. And I think you like that too –me looking better. I also like that you aren't like me at all. You're strong. And handsome. Very manly." That earned him a chuckle, but otherwise Mr. Graves remained silent and expectant. One would’ve thought he was staring at the most beautiful paramount.

Credence lowered his gaze, and fidgeted with the hem of the sheet.

His next confession was the hardest of them all, the root of everything, the reason why they argued in the first place, "Mr. Graves, I _really_ liked you calling me like that."

Mr. Graves smiled open and sincere, and landed a soft kiss on the apple of his cheek. The gesture was so pure it would’ve been the same as pouring liquid love in the fissures of Credence’s heart. 

"I only wish I'd known sooner, princess. And I'm truly sorry for hurting you. It was never my intention, baby girl. I promise it won’t happen again."

Credence wanted to hide once more, anywhere, but he didn't. This was a moment that needed to be saved and treasured and cherished. 

Mr. Graves broke the silence. He was never one to be shy and he wasn’t being shy then, but he did show some hesitancy before speaking, "I've only one request." 

Credence's smile was lazy, blurring around the edges, tip-toeing around sleepy dreams, "What is it, Mr. Graves?"

"You can't possibly keep calling me Mr. Graves. It's too formal, and I must say, it makes me feel old," it was said in good-natured, humorously too, but Credence was certain the words rang with truth.

Credence looked up at him. He'd never stopped to think about it, never had seen it as an issue. And though he liked calling Mr. Graves such, it was truly too formal a name to call him, especially in bed, after having done _that_.

Yet his brain was feeling rather mushy, and he couldn’t think of a single name to address the man. He was at a loss, "What do you suggest, Mr. Graves?" He winced at having repeated the title, but Mr. Graves, wonderful as he was, simply chuckled. 

"How do you feel about 'daddy?'"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i only wrote this bc there was barely any light to read my book on the bus.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: CHEESIER THAN BEFORE!  
> i got inspired, also some of you kinda asked for a continuation so... have fun!

There had been many dates before. Fancy dinners in sophisticated venues and candid picnics by the lake in the park, dates that were born spontaneously in the nick of time and others that were devotedly planned weeks ahead, dates that involved traveling great distances and many others that ended before even starting, dying in a whirlwind of lust at the foot of the king-sized bed. Credence recalled with great affection each of them. Tonight, felt just as unique.

Earlier Graves had sent his owl with a message: he was held up at work and would come to collect Credence at 7:30 p.m. sharp, which left him plenty of time to pamper himself the way he liked best. He began by drawing a warm bath with almond oils and cocoa butter to soften the skin, his mind drifting inevitably to Graves. The older man had a recurring tendency of abandoning himself shamelessly in the velvety softness of Credence’s skin.

Thereafter he sat before the vanity mirror wearing nothing but a periwinkle silk robe. On top of the table lay an array of perfume bottles as well several lipstick bullets, a casket full of jewelry and other trinkets, assorted cosmetics he had experimented with, and others he wasn't even sure of their purpose, or if he'd ever be brave enough to actually try them on.

Each and every item had been a gift from Graves, _daddy_ , he thought fondly. 

He never asked how much money Graves spent on the 'little treats' as the man called them, but he had an inkling it was no small amount of money. 

The crow-black hair was styled cautiously into romantic loose curls that hovered right above his shoulders.

Credence took immense pleasure in the ritual-like sensation that came with dates, the excitement of having to choose what to wear for a singular occasion. Now he had makeup to worry about too, not that he didn't like it, in fact, he adored it. Yet the limited practice he’d had on it amplified his insecurity, and the results weren't always as pretty as he'd envisioned firstly in his mind.

He decided to go for something simple, nothing too flashy lest he ended up looking silly.

Jazzy notes drifted in the air as he applied products to his face, picking up brushes, and dabbing them in pigmented pans to later swirl the soft bristles over his skin.

Once done the hair and the face, it was time to put on the clothes, a neutral set of garments that were neither manly nor too feminine: a subtle crepe-colored poet shirt specked with tiny dots of blue, complemented with a patterned ginger tie, flowy maroon trousers and polished oxford shoes. 

 

They had dinner at _Adamo_ , a newly-opened restaurant, elegant, decadent and dimly lit. That Credence appreciated, it conferred them some privacy; people wouldn't be able to stare at him and laugh behind his back. However, Graves had reassured him on multiple instances that wouldn't ever happen. He wouldn’t allow it. 

As he listened Graves’ recount of his day at the office, Credence realized his was a voice he’d never grow weary of, the croaky notes of it lulled him into blissful complacency.

Due to the close proximity of their seats and the sultry hunger that burned in Graves’ eyes as he brought the spoon to Credence's parted lips, the latter became keenly aware of every inch of his skin. The hand warming the back of his neck in a possessive grip only aggravated the feeling.

It was like an army of ants, biting and pricking at the underside of his flesh.

The half erection he’d been sporting during the course of the evening was now curving fully, trapped in the fine fabric of his panties, another gift from his daddy. 

"Are you alright, baby? Is there anything wrong?"

There was a very significant reason why _no, he wasn't alright_ and _yes, there was something wrong_. Perhaps the time and the place were wrong; the urgent desire wasn’t. But he could wait.

"I'm fine, daddy."

He pecked the corner of Graves’ mouth, a toothy smile plastered on his face when he pulled back. The woodsy scent of his cologne was intoxicating.

Credence accepted gladly the offered bite of chocolate mousse, lips engulfing the lustered silver of the spoon, the flavor exploding over his taste buds, and garnishing his throat with spongy delight. 

It tasted so good he moaned. Out loud.

"Sorry, daddy!" He said quickly, in between bites, a hand covering his mouth. 

"No need to apologize, princess," they were too close for social decency, Credence knew. He also knew that Graves would rather have him sitting on his lap while he fed Credence the rest of the _Gianduia_ cake. 

"Here," another spoonful.

Credence’s sweet tooth was bigger than Graves’, who seldom had any pastries or sweets. It also seemed feeding Credence tasted better, richer to him. 

With every bite the invisible string between them tightened, drawing them closer and closer, as it always did.

"Don't you want some too, daddy?"

But he merely smiled and replied, "No, baby. I'd rather have you when we get home."

Credence had tried his best to finish the rest of the cake, but after Graves’ forthright confession he felt like a gun, loaded and ready to blow at any second.

Soon after Graves asked for the bill, ushered Credence out into the street, and in the blink of an eye, apparated them both into the apartment, all in a matter of scant minutes. 

"You look painstakingly beautiful tonight, darling. Fuck, you're the prettiest girl I've ever seen."

His hands were on Credence's hips, pinning him against the wall while carving a space for this thigh between his legs. Credence couldn't escape him, but then again, he didn't want to. 

"You don't really mean that," mumbled Credence, fighting the impulse of grinding against the fabric-clad leg, gasping for air like a fish out of the water. 

"Oh, but I do, my love. Don't you trust your daddy?" 

In the passage of weeks, Credence discovered Graves not only enjoyed being called daddy, he _loved_ it, left him hanging at the edge of himself, grasping at straws. It showed in the way that meant Graves couldn't stop kissing Credence and failed to keep his hands off him, in the way that meant Credence woke up with the man worshipping his body in innocent and not so innocent manners. 

"Of course I trust you, daddy! But I think you may be a _bit_ biased. I'm not all that special."

Graves feigned shock and furrowed his brow, the result was dramatic and comic. Molten fondness gurgled inside Credence. 

Graves kissed him again then, rendering him speechless, voiding him of all argument with forceful sucking and passionate nips. He was being molded by the kiss, kneaded raw by the shape and movement of Graves’ lips. 

"Stubborn, hm? How can I fix this, baby girl? How will I get inside that pretty head of yours that you _are_ the most beautiful and sublime and kind person I've _ever_ met?"

Inside the bedroom the temperature had seemed to reach a thousand degrees. The clothes weighed same as lead, the space between their bodies was an abyss in need of prompt salvage. 

The hardness of Graves’ shaft was exceedingly warm too, and it burned where it rubbed against Credence's own. He humped helplessly, looking for friction, but the layers of cloth were a clear obstacle. Credence wished he was good at magic, if so, he'd have gotten rid of their clothes a long time ago. Graves was a very skilled wizard, but he preferred stripping the simple way. 

"I need you, daddy, _pleas_ e," Graves was already unbuttoning Credence's shirt, but Credence clung to him like a lifeline anyway.

His lipstick was probably all messed up by now, he only prayed the mascara didn't suffer the same fate. 

"I'm here, darling. I'm here."

Graves tugged him to stand before the settee at the end of the bed, and helped him out of his trousers with ease.

Anticipation gnawed at his back relentlessly. It always did, as did the tingle all over his body when he wore nothing but his underwear in front of Graves. It was as if the man devoured him, shredded the luxurious lingerie with his eyes.

Tonight, he was wearing a pair of lavender, corded lace briefs that did very little to disguise his erection. 

He straddled Graves, and undulated his hips like receding waves on the beach, wishing the other man would finally divest himself of his clothes. To have him feel just as vulnerable yet liberated in the exhilaration of their bare passion.

But Graves was still wearing all of his layers.

"Where were we? Ah, _yes!_ "

It was strange, but infinitely arousing to have a conversation --or try to-- while humping one's partner's lap. 

He wanted more though, "Doesn't matter, daddy."

A hard slap on his right asscheek took him by surprise. Credence wrapped his arms tighter around Graves neck and shuddered as if he’d been scolded, which in a way, he was.

"Of course it matters, princess. I _need_ you to know how special you are. I need you to see it for yourself, and believe it." 

If anyone was stubborn it was definitely Graves, Credence thought, but he liked it, especially because he only saw this level of vehemence in the man where Credence was concerned.

Still, he’d been brewing since dessert, and if much longer passed then he wouldn’t be able to suppress himself. Nonetheless Credence didn't want to ruin Graves’ expensive suit. 

Their hips rolled in sync, untamed and impulsive. When Graves raised himself up, Credence pushed back down. Graves had his hands on Credence's ass, squeezing the mounds of flesh sporadically, pulling him closer to his groin whenever he wished. 

"I’ll fuck you until you believe me, baby girl," his voice was a predatory, intimidating groan in Credence's ear, "Do you know where I’m going to fuck you?"

Credence gulped, "In my --in my ass, daddy?" he whimpered, embarrassed by the obscenity of his question as well as the increasing desperation of his thrusts. 

Graves’ hand reached beneath the panties, the tip of a finger drawing circles over his fluttering hole, "Oh no, baby," he pressed harder, "I'm going to fuck your pussy."

Credence's hips stuttered erratically, and next thing he knew he was dirtying his lavish underwear with cum, and making a mess of Graves’ pants alike in the process. Credence trembled, weakened by the climax, buzzing with joy.

" _Ah, daddy!_ " For some reason, he continued rolling his hips, reveling in the warm dampness of his release.

Graves rubbed soothing circles on his back, "Did I push too far, darling?"

For all his confident nerve, Graves never bit more than he could chew, never presumed. Everything he bought for Credence was because Credence had already mentioned it, or shown interest.

"It's okay, daddy. I just… I really liked it."

Graves groaned, he was still rock hard. 

"Is that so?" Graves asked, clicking his tongue and smirking. His hair was disheveled thanks to Credence's wandering hands. 

Graves got on his feet, and lifted Credence in his arms, feeling him lock his ankles behind him. 

A week ago they had made love that way: Credence seated on the kitchen counter with Graves buried wholly inside of him, trousers pooled at his feet. The entire act had lasted roughly seven minutes, the position allowing for a deeper penetration. Credence had left angry red scratches all over Graves' back. 

"Do you need a break?" he asked, depositing Credence on the edge of the bed.

Graves’ eyes were the color of bitter chocolate, Credence noticed; they were dark enough to swallow him whole.

"No, daddy. I still want you inside," Credence said sheepishly.

"Very well,"

Graves took off his clothes, his cock was swollen, the head red and wet, and as appetizing as the dessert he'd had at _Adamo_. 

"May I suck you off, daddy?"

Graves chuckled, and planted a kiss square on his mouth, the type that didn't include any tongue, and was more like a tender clash of lips. 

"Of course you can, baby girl," he wrapped himself in hand, and stroked the hardened length, tempting Credence, luring him in.

The fine lace of Credence’s panties was soaked in cum, and Credence himself was sweaty and flushed. Despite appearing the very definition of debauchery, he hurried to the vanity, and applied a fresh layer of burgundy lipstick on. 

He went back to the bed, and looked up at Graves, taking his shaft in hand, and giving it a tentative lick. Tangy and salty and oh so very _daddy_. 

Credence opened his mouth wider, and took more of Graves’ cock in, letting it sit heavily on his tongue before hollowing his cheeks and sucking hard, head bobbing as he continued to gobble him down, the tip constantly hitting the back of his throat, as he reveled at the blurry sight of red marks over the spit-soaked member. 

"Fuck. _Fuck_ , baby," Graves yanked at his hair.

The sudden, brief pain encouraged him, so Credence quickened his pace, desperate to taste his daddy’s seed, to have it trickle down his throat like a mouthful of hot milk.

"Credence, princess… fuck," he heard the man say, "Baby girl, _stop._ "

It took Credence a little while to comprehend the words, but he stopped immediately after. 

"Sorry, it's just… you taste so good."

Graves crouched before him, and rubbed his thumb over Credence’s cheek. The man could be awfully tender even after sinful acts. But then again, nothing was really sinful in his eyes. 

He asked Credence out of his panties and on his elbows and knees, who instinctively arched his back to be prepped. The position exposed him entirely, head on his hands, the soft, distant breeze caressing his most intimate parts.

The first finger was the most reluctant, sleeked in lubricant as it was, but thereafter the second went in easier. Nowadays, an aching emptiness overcame him if he went too long without having sex with Graves; he’d become a part of Credence.

"I'm ready, daddy, _please_!" He begged. 

Graves had two fingers inside of him, scissoring them until he felt weak, breakable. The breach was easier when he was more thoroughly opened, –three, even four fingers, made for a smoother entrance-- but Credence enjoyed the sting too; the constrictive stretch of his channel to accommodate Graves' throbbing shaft. 

" _Please_ …"

"It's fine, baby. Daddy will take care of you." 

Graves neared the edge of the bed, and placed one foot on the mattress for leverage as he guided Credence's ass closer to his crotch. 

Draping himself over Credence's slimmer frame, he wound a hand around his neck, calming, lenient but heavy. Graves could smell the sweetened scent of Credence's shampoo and the subtle notes of his perfume, impregnating the milky expanse of his skin. In this position, he had complete control over Credence. The angle permitted utmost proximity without taking away the intimacy. 

Graves could see Credence gritting his teeth, trying to stay still with the blunt head of his leaking cock pressing in. 

"Daddy's going to put it in now, princess. Okay?" 

Credence nodded hectically. He was biting his lip, eyes shut tight. 

Graves moved slowly, so Credence felt the girth of him being gobbled up by the constricting heat of his body. It hurt, but not too much. He hoped he would be able to feel the burn come tomorrow. Inch by inch, Graves trespassed his barriers, and just when he thought he couldn't take any more of it, that throbbing intruder that broke him in half, Graves stopped.

"How are you feeling, baby girl?"

Credence had to take a breather, and almost panting, responded, "I’m --good. I feel good, daddy."

Graves grunted and dragged backwards just to shove himself back in, agonizingly slow. And then he did it again, and again, increasing in speed with every mindful thrust. 

After a bit of maneuvering their mouths were sufficiently close they could kiss. Delving in each other, lips gliding in too innocent and delicate a manner in contrast with the harsh pounding of Graves' hips. The squelching, suckling noises distending the vulgarity of it all.  

"Fuck, your tight pussy's taking me in so good." 

Credence was wobbly on all fours, moaning pathetically into Graves' mouth. The words had fallen on his lips like nectar, like his daddy’s cum, he only wished he could drink them down too.

"Daddy, daddy!"

"Yes, baby?"

"Say it again, please say it again."

"Baby girl, you'll -- _ah_! You'll be the death of me, Credence, with your plump lips painted red and your pretty curls, your long legs... I'm a madman, and it's all because of you, princess. Fuck!" he hissed, and slurped kisses on Credence's back, unforgiving and lacking any finesse, leaving traces of spit here and there, then sucking a spot right below Credence's ear, "Your pussy is mine, baby girl. Only mine."

"Yes, _yes_ , daddy!"

Graves wrapped one hand around Credence's feverish cock, and teased at the slit with a flick of this thumb. He wanted to unravel his precious girl, to have her bloom under his touch, and leave her boneless and sated. Graves could feel his impending his climax closing in, but he wanted, _no_ –needed, to make Credence come first. 

There was also the bit of fucking Credence into believing he was worthy of every praise Graves threw his way, they were, after all, nothing but the truth. 

"I love you, _so much_ , baby girl," Graves managed to breathe out.

His legs were tired, Credence was probably exhausted too, Graves figured, so he lowered his girl flat on the bed, slipping out for only a moment, but Credence was quick to notice his absence, and soon he was being pushed back inside the maddening heat.

Graves renewed his thrusts, mindful of hitting the spot that would bring Credence into completion.

"My beautiful, wonderful Credence," he brushed the back of his fingers over Credence's cheekbone, admiring the serene beauty of his face, the rosy glow of the skin, the scrumptious pair of lips. 

Graves leaned and tasted that plush mouth, tasted the clever tongue that was both sweet and tangy, _my cum_ , he remembered. He began thrusting harder, deeper, faster, absent of any reservation, and inhaling Credence's moans before they could even leave the back of his throat.

As if from another place, came the dull thumps of a headboard banging against the wall, the squeaking of wood floors. He broke the kiss as he felt his balls tightening, desire gathering hot and hefty at the bottom of his belly, and shortly, the last remnants of stamina were gushing out of him and filling Credence to the brim. Credence followed suit, arching his back and crying out, holding on to Graves’s shoulders as he seemed to choke on air, muttering what sounded like _daddy_ over and over. 

"That's it, baby girl. Daddy's here with you."

Minutes passed, Credence smiled but his eyelids were still closed. Graves moved to slip out, but Credence stopped him, "No, don't… please. Let’s stay like this a little longer."

"Alright, princess.”

Maybe Credence would believe him now, once and for all. He was Graves’ most valued treasure, the light of his days, and frankly, he’d never been as happy as he was now. Graves was completely besotted; he was in love, and loved no one else than Credence.

Credence who glanced at the heap of clothes discarded on the floor, and remarked lightheartedly, "You know, you owe me a new pair of panties, daddy. You made me ruin mine."

Graves chuckled and tilted Credence’s face up, depositing a chaste kiss on the faintly tainted red lips, "I have a feeling I'll be owing you all my life, baby girl."

**Author's Note:**

> come follow me on tumblr: [elvishflower](http://elvishflower.tumblr.com/)


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